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This post originally appeared on beyondthebar.co.
I think its about time I come clean, not only with you but most importantly with myself. When I started this blog a few years ago, it was simply because a friend had started hers and I felt that if she could do it, so could I. While her blog eventually fell by the wayside, I kept mine up some what before it eventually met the same fate. It would be resurrected a few times with a few changes in direction before it finally stuck. Now nearly 7 years later, during its most recent change, I was forced to face some blaring truths from which I've tried to hide. They're not pretty. I'm more than embarrassed to admit to them but the truth shall set you free right? So here goes nothing.

This blog has come to serve as a representation of me trying to identify my passion and purpose in this life, while achieving some level of notoriety. I felt that if everything fell into place, and I accomplished those things and possibly more, I would finally gain what I had been seeking for so many years…...validation. For so long, I’ve lived in this mental space wanting, needing to feel validated. I’ve even allowed this desire to guide my actions to try to build a brand based on who I thought I was and should be and who people wanted me to be. But of course there were cracks in that foundation and it showed. Once again, the voice I so desperately wanted to be heard, to be valued, was quieted out of necessity. Before you can be heard, you must first find your voice.

Growing up, in my household, there really wasn’t much room for conversation or discussions on any subject between me and my parents. Instead, over time I developed an unhealthy fear of them due to my mom gradually handing over almost all decision making with regards to my upbringing to my stepfather. While I love my stepfather, and consider him to be my dad, our relationship at times did leave much to be desired. When I was wrong, I was wrong and I accept that but it was when I wasn’t that has left its lingering effects. As a child, I really couldn’t say much because you’re the child and they’re the adults right? Enough said. But as I headed into my teenage years and beyond, any attempt to right where I felt I had been wronged would pretty much end with me inwardly seething with anger and frustration, while crying, head hung in defeat. That combined with the near lack of affection and an atmosphere not conducive to open and honest conversation, my voice soon grew silent. The anger, on the other hand continued to grow, always stewing just below the surface, until it wasn’t. One day, during what became a heated exchange, I threatened my father with an act of physical violence.